as much in town: rightly or wrongly I gathered there was something you would never speak about to living man.”
I turned from him with a groan.
“Ah! but that had nothing to do with Santos.”
“Are you sure?” he cried.
“No,” I murmured; “it had something to do with him, in a sense; but don’t ask me any more.” And I leaned my forehead on the high oak mantel-piece, and groaned again.
His hand was upon my shoulder.
“Do tell me,” he urged. I was silent. He pressed me further. In my fancy, both hand and voice shook with his sympathy.
The night after I consulted the specialist I was quite determined to sleep. I had laid in a bundle of the daily papers. No country cottage was advertised to let but I knew of it by evening, and about all the likely ones I had already written. The scheme occupied my thoughts. Trout-fishing was a desideratum.